Paper
by Hermione-2113
Summary: A secret House didn't know he was keeping threatens to turn his life upside down...eventual HouseCuddy.
1. Chapter 1

A/n: This story is an alternate universe - it meshes with canon only up to 'Love Hurts'. While House's infarction did take place essentially as described in 'Three Stories', I came up with this fic before Stacy's return and don't feel like writing her in.

* * *

Greg House was in the process of pushing through the main doors of Princeton-Plainsboro when, at a highly inopportune moment, his pager went off. He jumped, reaching instinctively for it, only to realize too late that he was attempting to hold the pager, his cane, and the door with one less hand than was needed. Something had to go, and the door lost, swinging solidly against his person once released. He was forced to lunge out of the way, a maneuver that very nearly sent him tumbling face-first to the floor.

This was his first clue - apart from the sun's rising - that today was not going to be a very enjoyable day.

After a vain attempt to gather his dignity and a somewhat more successful one to right his cane, House finally glanced at the pager. There, he found the next clue.

**'Cuddy now'**

Which certainly got the point across, but it wasn't like her to be _that_ brusque. For that matter, it wasn't like her to page him at all. Knowing his proclivity to head in the opposite direction when summoned, she tended to prefer stalking him and pouncing. He might have written it off as a prank from his staff, were it not for the timing. The rear window of Cuddy's office faced the parking lot, and he suspected she'd sent the message as soon as she noticed his now fairly distinctive car.

Uncharacteristic all around, which left him both slightly worried and quite curious. This was a powerful combination, enough so to override his usual policy of avoiding her unless he wanted something.

After years of walking this hospital's corridors, House could have reached his destination blindfolded, leaving his mind free to mull over the possibilities. Either she wanted to yell at him, or she wanted to give him bad news. He could think of numerous reasons for either. Yell at him for how he'd treated Cameron at their dinner last week? Give him the bad news that Vogler was coming back? Remark on his vicodin intake?

Only one way to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

A/n: As I'm sure everyone knows - new season starts tomorrow! But once again, this fic will not take into account anything that happened after 'Love Hurts'. Some elements of characterization or backstory revealed in the new episodes might find their way in, but that will take a while - I have quite a few chapters already written, so those probably won't be influenced.

Also, thanks to everyone for all the lovely reviews! Sorry for the cliffhanger last time around, and hopefully this chapter will live up to the suspense.

* * *

Watching House push unapologetically through the doors to her office was by no means an unfamiliar thing for Lisa Cuddy. Knocking did not tend to be his strong suit; as far as he was concerned, if you didn't want company the door would have been locked. Particularly as she'd summoned him here this time...

And right now, she couldn't have cared less about the damned door.

"You rang?" the other doctor asked, crossing the office to her desk and leaning idly on his cane. Behind the facade of amiability, she could see suspicion in his eyes, but that was all. So he didn't know yet. Even he wasn't a good enough actor to seem so unaffected if he knew.

"Sit down," she said wearily, waving at the empty chair.

He was frowning now, but after a moment he folded his long frame into the indicated seat, never taking his eyes off her. "I'm here. I'm sitting. Your turn."

Cuddy sighed and looked down, turning a sheet of paper in her hands. It, and the envelope it had come in, were the only bits of paperwork on her typically more crowded desk. "This was in my mail when I came in this morning."

"I don't suppose it's good news." The confusion in his voice was suddenly edged by concern.

She shook her head as he looked at her. "It's not about me, House. I was sent this because I'm your employer, as a courtesy. I don't know why you don't have your copy yet..."

Without saying a word, he thrust out his hand. She gave it to him, watched helplessly as he read it, bits and pieces flashing back through her own mind.

'INS'...'has come to our attention'...'illegal resident'...'falsified documents'...'deported'...'England'...

It took him too long to read the relatively brief document. Probably going over and over the letters, willing them to form a pattern that made sense. She'd done the same.

Anger flashed into his eyes as comprehension dawned, and his face was grim as he finally looked up. "Vogler."

"Yeah, that was my guess." It shouldn't have surprised her that _some_thing of this nature would happen. By taking his money back, Vogler had punished the hospital, punished her...but House, the worst offender of all, had been only too glad to see the back of him. So he had to pay some other way -

But who could have anticipated _this_? Still reeling inside, Cuddy watched him set the paper back on her desk, picked it up and folded it quickly, fighting the urge to rip it in half. She hesitated, then, "Is it..."

"True?" he asked, in a voice that would have sounded idle to most of the world. "Yeah. Want me to dust off the accent and prove it to you? I'll warn you, it's been a while, but I'll give it a jolly good -"

"What happened?"

His mouth twisted slightly. "Nothing much to tell. My dad brought the family over when I was three. I know we weren't that well off at first, and I suppose it's not really a surprise our papers weren't a hundred percent genuine. But it's never been a problem..."

"Until he," Cuddy almost spat the pronoun, "hired bloodhounds with magnifying glasses to go over every inch of your life, I suppose."

He tipped his head, a quiet, dispirited movement that worried her. "As you say."

There was silence for a moment, then she burst out, "So, what are you going to do?"

House eyed her sardonically. "Leave, I guess. There _are_ worse places to be deported to than England. I'm told they even have hospitals over -"

"That's not what I meant!" She saw him quirking a brow at her vehemency, but didn't stop. "There have to be ways you can fight this."

He just _looked_ at her. After a moment, she sighed and dropped her gaze. He was right, damn it. Of course there were myriad ways he could have obtained legal citizenship...were it not for a certain very wealthy and powerful man who had surely anticipated and blocked every one of them.

"My own fault, really." His tone was light, mocking. "I could have taken care of this any time over the years, but it just never came up..."

House trailed off and the quiet hung heavily between them again. Her mind churned furiously, with a desperation that was somehow fueled by his unusual resignation. "What about -"

It was almost a relief when he suddenly glared at her. "There's nothing," he snapped, his usual control frayed to breaking. "Do you think I _want_ this? My life might not be a damn paradise, but I'm used to it, so no, I don't feel like being uprooted, but there's _nothing_."

"One thing," Cuddy said softly. "He couldn't contest it..."

He stared at her a moment, realized what she meant, and made a sound of disgust.

She bulled on, unheeding. "Think about it. I'm sure Cameron would -"

"Save me," House bit off viciously. "Yeah, I'm sure, too. After all, the last guy she married was dying of cancer when she met him, so I'm sure an illegal alien would be a real step up."

The words stung like a blow; she didn't know Cameron well enough to exchange confidences, and hadn't been aware of that part of her past.

"I told her as much when I took her on that 'date' that's been all over the hospital," he said. "Even then she thought I'd make a fine charity case, so you can imagine how she'd foam at the mouth over this."

Cuddy sighed, softly, knowing that while he wasn't truly angry with his young staffer, he meant every damn stubborn word. Knew that he'd rather be forced out of the country than sacrifice his pride. Even knew, though she wanted not to care, that such an arrangement wouldn't be good for Cameron, either.

But it was hard to think about Cameron in the face of this. True, as he'd said, England was hardly a death sentence. No doubt he'd find work there quickly and get on well enough. And yet.

She'd never say as much to House, but the thought of him living entirely with strangers worried her. Even here, where he had his staff looking up to him and Wilson for a friend and, yes, her, he wasn't what you could call well-off. The pills alone...since the 'Great Vicodin Experiment', his consumption hadn't increased - but neither had it decreased.

And so she worried. And as she sat here, shocked and furious, she knew there was also a selfish side to her protests. It had been bad enough when she'd expected Vogler to thrust him out of the hospital, but this...

Greg House was an asset to her hospital. She said it often, and knew it was true. However, she'd also grown - what was his word? - _used_ to having him around. 'Friend' didn't seem to apply to their relationship, but he was her colleague and sparring partner, someone who could cheer her up even as he drove her crazy. It was impossible to picture the place without him.

Even so, she didn't know if she'd ever fully understand what had happened next, what mad impulse had driven her to open her mouth and say, "Forget Cameron, then. What about me?"

* * *

A/n: No, if you were wondering, I haven't more than the barest notion of immigration laws, or exactly how much Vogler would be able to influence. I came across a copy of a Hugh Laurie interview, and wondered what would happen if character and actor had a bit more in common.

The basic idea came from a Romano/Elizabeth ER fanfiction I read ages ago, but have since lost. (If anyone knows what I'm talking about, let me know and I'll post a link.) I couldn't resist adapting it to House.

Anyway, sincere apologies for having most likely bent reality six ways from Sunday in order to fit my plot. If anyone has an idea for how I could make this more plausible without distorting said plot, I'm all ears.


	3. Chapter 3

An: Thanks again, reviewers! I'm thrilled people are enjoying this story. I only typed it up in the first place to get it out of my head, so it's great to hear that you're having a nice read from it.

* * *

Every now and again, maybe once in ten blue moons, something shocked House enough that he forgot to be unflappable and simply gaped.

It had been quite some time since Cuddy had seen this look, and maybe never with this intensity, but she couldn't concentrate on committing it to memory because her heart was beating too damned fast.

And he recovered himself fairly quickly, eyes shifting from wide to narrow in an instant. "I assume you're joking, Dr. Cuddy," he snapped, "as I hadn't figured you for another martyr complex."

She recognized his lashing out for what it was and didn't flinch.

"Why the hell -"

"Why the hell _not_?" she countered fiercely. "Why not sign a miserable piece of paper that won't change my life in the slightest, if it keeps this from happening?"

"_This_, as you so eloquently put it," he all but hissed, "is my problem. Why should you -"

"Back to that." Cuddy matched him glare for glare. "I've taken your side against Vogler once already because your department is worth it and because you were right. He's not running you out of my hospital if I can stop it." And that was about all she could say, because if she mentioned missing him the pity sensor would go off and that would be it.

"Before was different," he protested. "That was just a question of him storming off. This..."

She could almost see him bite his tongue and felt a rush of relief. The badly restrained anger in House a few moments ago had been exhilarating in a way, but she was nearly shaking with adrenaline. Now they were heading back to familiar footing. "Should I be flattered that you consider a hundred million dollars less significant than my marital status?"

He'd walked neatly into that, and they both knew it. "That's not the point, Cuddy."

"_Then what is?_"

For a few rare seconds he was silent, and she pushed the advantage ruthlessly. This was just like any of their heated arguments...only the stakes were far, far higher this time. If she lost now, this fracas would be the last one. And if she focused on how much that bothered her, she'd lose for sure. "What, no comeback? Or does the dead air mean I'm right?"

"You -"

"Forget me," she cut him off. "I _want_ this. My life wouldn't change, I'm not involved with someone I'd regret not being able to marry, I'm not reading anything into it as Cameron would, and _I want this_. So unless you really miss England, why not?"

And he couldn't answer her, couldn't come up with a word, and abruptly Cuddy realized that she'd won. It took far too much effort not to breathe like a winded racehorse, to keep her thoughts from churning like a horse still in full gallop.

What, exactly, had she done? Become so caught up in the fight that she'd argued for the wrong side? Or had she meant those bold words about wanting this?

As they stared at each other for a long moment, she knew that she had. She wanted this person to be a part of her life. She was fine with him as a colleague, but if it came down to a choice between husband or pen pal...

Finally she looked away, and only then did House repeat, voice rough, "You want this."

"Yes. Do you?"

"If you -"

Cuddy met his eyes again, and he broke off and simply nodded. It was the biggest concession she could see him making, and almost a surprise that he trusted her enough for that.

Almost.


	4. Chapter 4

Arrangements were made for 'it' to be 'seen to' after work, and somehow he was in the hallway again. Later, House would speculate that she'd hustled him out of her office before he could come to his senses - or she could. For now, those senses were a fond memory as he aimed vaguely toward his department, making his way down a corridor that seemed to have changed worlds in what couldn't have been more than a half-hour.

But after all, he thought wryly, time was subjective. The past few weeks alone had seemed longer than quite a few of the months preceding them. Or had the world sped _up_? That seemed apter. Vogler's arrival, almost innocuous at first but quickly snowballing. The hospital in chaos. Chase's betrayal. Cameron's quitting. And then Cuddy's betrayal and _Wilson_'s quitting. But Cuddy hadn't betrayed them after all and suddenly Vogler was gone. And no catching a breath in his wake, for then there'd been the meningitis outbreak that seemed to have happened purely out of spite, after which _Cameron_ got in on the fun and threw him for another loop.

And as that awkward dinner faded into the past and she began to act normally again, along came this, these last few minutes that had been a roller-coaster in themselves. A part of his past he'd all but forgotten come rearing up to take away even the semblance of a life he had. Cuddy, of all people, taking exception to this.

Cuddy. Dr. Lisa Cuddy. Hospital administrator, bane of his existence, technically his boss...and somehow, ridiculously, his fiancée. His _wife_, before the day was out.

What the hell was next?

The answer to that question, it turned out, was 'Cameron again'. She had resumed handling his mail, but was still dealing with the backlog from her absence, and so hadn't read his copy of the INS letter until he was in Cuddy's office with his pager off. Now, as he limped down the hall, he spotted the familiar dark-haired blur just in time to get out of its way.

It was almost comical to see her skid to a stop and whirl around. "Dr. House!"

"So I'm told," he muttered. He _had_ expected this, if not quite so soon, so at least he had a story ready.

Cameron thrust a familiar envelope at him, obviously agitated. "This -"

"Yes, I know." He took it without looking. "They're coming to take me away, ha ha."

House let her stare blankly at him for a moment, then explained. "I just came from a meeting with Cuddy about the exact same thing. She's put her pet lawyer on the case and isn't worried."

"Oh...oh." She shook her head bemusedly. "So it's all right?"

"Depends. Do you consider my having to pay for the lawyer in extra clinic work 'all right'?" That coaxed a smile from her. "Yes, it's fine. And I'll thank you not to noise it around."

"Right."

He noticed her eyes straying to the envelope again and shook his head. "Long story. Now, have you seen the other two musketeers? As you've left them unsupervised, they're probably off hunting for a new case to spring on me..."

And turning, he walked away, not needing the soft tap of her footsteps to know she'd fallen in behind him. With half an ear, he listened to the chatter about just where Chase was and where she thought Foreman was and how the latter _might_ have sniffed out a potential patient but that it sounded _really_ interesting...

Though House would never have said so, he agreed with that last. A good, baffling illness - a proper human jigsaw - was just the thing that would take his mind off of a much more disturbing puzzle.

He hoped.


End file.
